


Frappe and Muff

by CaptainTarthister



Series: Breakfast Smut [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Absofuckinglutely not, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Hair, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, F/M, Fluff, Hair-pulling, Loud Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Unapologetic filth, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Winter, not a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 03:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: “By this time, we should be having muffins already. It’s Muffin and Frappe day, Jaime. The line gets quite long at the bakery.”“Hmm. I know. But I already had my favorite muffin.”“Excuse me?”





	Frappe and Muff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catherineflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/gifts).



> A New Year's gift for my lovely and amazing catherineflowers. 
> 
> Prompt by Her Amazingness was inspired by a photo of Nikolaj currently doing the reblog circuit in Tumblr. He's in skinny jeans and holds a drink in it.
> 
> ****  
> Corny alert: STARKBUCKS

 

Because it was still dark outside, Brienne bit her lip to swallow her cry.

Jaime’s solution was to fist her pale, limp hair, pushing her down to meet his lips. She took his offer gratefully, getting lost in his kisses. Her wails poured into his mouth.

His breath was dry, his kisses warm, so, so warm. She slammed her palms on either side of his shoulders as she met his tongue thrust for thrust, her moans tangling with his groans. He was not worried about waking their neighbor.

Her hips, without rhythm moments ago as she struggled to keep quiet, now moved up and down over him with grace. He freed her hair, joining his other hand gripping her ass. The blanket slipped down her thighs, making her shiver.

As she rose, his cock jerked high, harder, missing her warmth. She sank back down, her cunt lips making a loud, wet sound as they parted to suck him back inside.

Suddenly, he smacked her on the ass. Grabbed her by the chin, halting their kiss long enough to grunt a command that had her locking around him tighter. Their pants ruffled their hairs gossamered over their eyes, pale mixing with gold.

“Faster.”  

“Trying,” she managed to gasp before his tongue was in her mouth again, intent on pushing down her throat. Both his hands returned to her ass, urging her faster, harder. Fingers pushed her cheeks apart before sinking in the unforgiving channel between them. She wailed in shocked delight from the dual penetration of his cock and fingers. She felt so full, _so hot_ from inside that she forgot how cold it was.

Rising over him had the cold whooshing back—was there an open window—driving them to move faster, kiss harder, deeper. Goosebumps covered her back all the way to her thighs. Her cardigan and nightgown, the latter swept high on her waist, barely protected her. She had already lost one of her wool socks. The hairs on his thighs felt stiff, crinklier, abrading rather than tickling her.

She didn’t dislike it.

“Switch,” he demanded.

She nodded, rolled on her back. The sky outside the window showed the sun’s rays stretching across the dark horizon, spreading orange light. Turning back to Jaime, she saw him kick off his pajamas, rip his sweater over his head. Golden hair, hard, golden body came to view. She spread her legs wide as he fell on top of her none too gently. His cock pushed back inside her in one brutal thrust. She shrieked and punched the headboard with the side of her fist.

_“Gods, Jaime.”_

Then his mouth was on her again, tongue sparring with hers as he fucked her. The slaps of their cooled flesh joined the cacophony of their grunts and groans, the rustle of their bodies on the sheets, headboard banging against the wall. She bit him, tasting the sunlight slanting over his face from the window. His response was to grab one of her legs and rope it higher around his back.

“Jaime!” She squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly from the sudden lurch of pleasure from the angle change. He thrust, rubbing himself right against her clit, his pubic hairs a delicious friction. “Yes. Gods. Jaime. _Jaime._ Faster.”

She scratched at his back harder than usual.

_“Gods fuck, Brienne!”_

He grabbed the headboard and lunged roughly back inside her. She screamed, startled into orgasm. His roar was louder, emerald eyes widening as he yanked the neckline of her nightgown. It ripped, freeing her tits.

The cold bit painfully into her nipples. As she moaned, his mouth wrapped fully around one small mound, tongue flicking at the hardened pink tip. She clutched at him as they crashed into their release.

 “Jaime,” she whispered a moment later, her body limp and boneless as she caressed his thick, golden hair. They remained joined, and his mouth refused to release her nipple. Her legs moved with gentle listlessness as he covered her tit with wet kisses and wetter licks before moving to the other. Her abandoned nipple pointed stiffly in the cool air while he feasted harshly on the other.

He suckled as if to never let go, the soft rapture on his face an expression only she could see, and when he did this. He opened his eyes, fiery emeralds looking into her own blue eyes as he tongued her nipple. They looked at each other as he continued worshipping her tits with mouth and more tongue, pushing away the torn fabric of her nightgown.

Her legs lay spread wide at his sides, drained of strength. She felt boneless all over. Yet every kiss pressed on her tits roused her, by skin, by bone. She blushed, turning her head to the side. Her cunt was still soft from her orgasm but still clutched stubbornly around his cock. She felt herself swell anew with fresh honey. He grinned before returning to her other nipple, sucking loudly.

“I should always be in you,” he whispered knowingly, his hips thrusting gently. She arched her neck as he hardened inside her, causing her to spread her legs some more.

“Stay,” she moaned, touching his cheek. He caught her hand to suck her fingers.

He fucked her slowly, looking in her eyes. She cleared the hair from his face, pulling him down for a kiss. His hand on her tit tightened, fingers pulled at her nipple. His kiss muffled her cry. He thrust into her cunt gently, the squelch of her semen-soaked cunt overwhelming her whimpers. She let him guide her into another release, his beautiful eyes her sky as she flew, her ocean when she fell. He bit her ear as she shouted, holding him tightly with her arms and legs.

Without missing a beat, there came the annoyed rapping of knuckles from the apartment next door.

“You should kiss me when I scream,” Brienne whispered, her cheeks flushed from fucking and being overheard. She glanced at the wall from where the sound came from.

“I fuck you to hear you scream,” Jaime said, licking her lips. “That perv can always invest in earplugs.”

“He’s up early.”

He chuckled. “Probably to listen to me fuck you.”

“Eww. Jaime.”

“The poor bastard probably only has his lube and sock and I get to fuck your wet pussy every night.”

“You don’t fuck me every night.”

“Hmm. Every other night.”

Brienne sighed as he pulled out of her with a groan. But he remained in her arms, covering her tits with kisses again. She wailed as he took hard, long drags of her nipple. She watched his blond head move down her body. Even the flex of his back muscles and shoulders made her breathless. And wet.

Again.

Her thighs fell open, her outer labia spreading. Semen poured from her cunt.

“Oh, gods,” she exclaimed, red sweeping through her body. Her hands flew to her face.

“You look fucking delicious,” Jaime assured her, shouldering her thighs farther apart. She gasped as his breath stirred her damp, sticky curls, moaned as his hair brushed her thigh. “Let me see you, Brienne.”

It was a command and a plea. She lowered her hands, gasping when he kissed her firmly on the thigh. Her eyes were immediately snared by his gaze, emeralds laced with the gold of sunlight.

Then his tongue swept in. Hot. Soft, wet velvet.

_“G-Gods.”_

Sharp, guttural cries fell from her lips as he buried his tongue over and over in her cunt. He gripped her thighs, pressing her wide open. She was helpless from the relentless assault of his lips and tongue, even his breath. His name and her exultations to the Seven tangled, melting into mewling nonsense when he sucked her clitoris. Tears fells from her eyes as his fingers plundered her engorged passage next, scissoring inside her. Fucking her without mercy.

_“Jaime.”_

With every suckle on her clit, every drive of his finger in her cunt, she felt her strength ebb. Her hands grabbed weakly at his hair, her hips lurching, twisting. She was aflame, shattering slowly yet also rebuilt with every fuck of his tongue. Too much, she wanted to say but her mouth could only open, release tight gasps.

Her fists on his hair loosened to caress, sliding down his back. His skin was cool-warm, overwhelmed by goosebumps yet coated in sweat. Her half-closed eyes watched his golden head pressing again and again at her cunt. She glimpsed the pleasure on his face. The play in his eyes when they slid up to her.

Too much, the wonder of his tongue. No god knew what was past the Seven Heavens. She did.

Shaky, wet sobs spilled from her lips when his fingers pulled out. Then his tongue pushed back inside.

His name was a song, the thesaurus of needs strung in her haze becoming poetry. Her nails scored hard on his back as tremors spread throughout her body. His tongue was hungry, ceaseless. She flung her legs wider apart. He thumbed her soaked, swollen labia open and sank his tongue inside her.

Then slurped her clit.

_“Jaime!”_

White-hot electricity streaked into her. He slammed his mouth on her cunt, stilling her lurching hips with hands and lips pulling and pulling at her clit. Golden light smashed into her white world. “Jaime, Jaime,” came her cry, a sound she knew came from her yet sounding so far away.

When she came to after what felt like days, or maybe years, the first thing she saw was Jaime’s cock. Long and thick even at rest, it was as golden as the rest of him. Her sleepy eyes lit up at closer inspection of it: streaked from fucking her, the sheen reminded her of a glazed yum-yum. She smiled and turned on her back. She still had her cardigan on, tangled around her wrists, and her nightgown, torn and open. Useless. Cold air lashed at her nipples.

Drool began to drip from the side of her mouth, her eyes never leaving his cock. Surrounded by springy golden hair, it seemed presented to her like a gift from the gods. She gazed at his round, very plump balls, licking her lips. Absently, her hand drifted to her cunt.

“Stop looking at me like that or you’ll get another pounding, babe.” Jaime’s teasing pulled her attention to his face. She blushed, pulling her hand back. Her toes curled as she stared at him. Mussed blond hair, sleepy emerald eyes—there would never be a much better sight.

Brienne moved sensuously to his spot on the bed, pressing her body on the warmth his body had left. She stared dazedly at his high cheekbones, the square jawline handcrafted by the Seven. A thick beard shadowed them. He looked like the lead singer of a rock band. Hard metal—the kind the High Priest and parents would forbid you from listening.

He could also pass for a very sexy but lovely-smelling hobo, she thought, sniffing his pillow.

She watched him pull his jeans over hard, hairy thighs then his cock. She sat up, pushing away her cardigan and torn nightgown.

He finger-combed his tousled hair, looking god-like in just jeans and his bare chest, sunlight cloaked around him. So what if he hunched slightly from the cold as he hurried into a t-shirt? She couldn’t suppress another smile when she stretched, unable to look away from the most divine of the male species.

“Do you hear me complaining about getting pounded?” She said, trying to imitate his lazy, sexy drawl.

“Come to think of it, no,” he said, pretending to give it serious thought before flashing his pearly whites at her. “You always give thanks to the gods.”

As she blushed, he jumped into bed next to her. She shrieked and bounced before he caught her, steadied her with a kiss. As she tasted herself from his tongue, his hand settled firmly on her cunt. She drew him closer with her leg around his waist.

Suddenly, her stomach growled. Loudly. Her head fell back on the pillow as nibbled her lips. “I’m hungry,” she murmured as he sucked her neck. “By this time, we should be having muffins already. It’s Muffin and Frappe day, Jaime. The line gets quite long at the bakery.”

“Hmm. I know. But I already had my favorite muffin.”

“Excuse me?”

He pulled away to show her the pointed gaze he directed at her cunt. As she giggled, he continued, “Best muffin in all of Westeros. You know why?”

Her legs opened as his hand returned to her cunt. “I don’t think— _oh._ ”

She closed her eyes as he nudged her cunt lips open to push a hard finger inside. He smirked as she got flustered and redder from pleasure, her hips rolling even when his finger stayed still. _“Jaime.”_

“Do you know,” he said, his breath warming her lips, “that your wet little pussy is a gift from the Seven?”

She opened her eyes as he kissed her very, very gently. “Little pussy?”

“You’re still so fucking tight when you get my cock three times a day sometimes.” As he spoke, he played with her clit.

She gasped against his mouth. “If my pussy’s a gift, you fuck me like you’re furious at it.”

“Is that a complaint, baby?” He sucked her lower lips between his teeth.

She shook her head and kissed him back. “A compliment.”

They kissed some more, his finger fucking her gently yet firmly. She caught her breath as he pulled it out, showing her its gleam.

“My favorite muffin. Always very moist and buttered. Just as I like it.”

“Oh, gods,” she groaned, smacking her hands on her face as laughter overtook her. When she lowered them, he made a big show of sucking his finger clean.

Then he suddenly slapped her on the ass.

“Ow!”

“Get up, sleepyhead.” He kissed her hard on the mouth then leaped off the bed. Brienne stretched then got up, grabbing her blue flannel robe on the way to the bathroom. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, assessing the collection of hickeys beginning from below her right ear then around her neck. It was going to be turtlenecks or scarves for her this week.

She propped her foot up on the edge of the sink then splashed warm water to her cunt. Washing, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyelids felt heavy from lack of sleep and she could benefit from a heating pad on her cunt. But she felt energized. Super, in fact. There were three projects due in a couple of weeks and today she was sure they would be delivered way before the deadline. She patted her cunt dry and applied sunscreen on her face.

She had a long, biggish nose, a wide mouth with thick lips. Orthodontia had fixed her overbite but some of her teeth were still crooked. Except for her eyes, round and the color of shimmering sapphires, there was nothing else remarkable about her. Jaime said her freckles called for kisses, and her being over six feet tall meant her long legs could wrap around him twice. She brushed her shoulder-length hair, fluffed the flat top for some lift then went out.

Jaime was putting on a gray sweater over his t-shirt when she returned. She let out a dramatic sigh of disappointment at having missed the show. He grinned. “You do want another pounding, babe,” he teased, his gaze searing with hunger. He lingered on her mouth then her thighs under her short robe. The insides were pink from his beard.

Her cunt, cool from the wash, began to warm.

“Oh no, you’ll have to feed me first,” she said, picking up his used boxers at her feet and throwing them at him. He grinned as they decked him right on the face.

As she pulled out a sweater and a tank top from the dresser, she added, “You really should get going. The coffee shop might run out of frappes.”

They assigned a special breakfast for each day of the week. Monday was Black and Bacon. They prepared it together in their little kitchen. Tuesday was Smoothie Fruity, Wednesday Frappe and Muff—rich, blended coffee slushy enjoyed with muffins from their favorite shop. Thursday was Mac and Yums, macchiatos and her favorite pastry, yum-yums. Friday to Sunday, they returned to the classics—pancakes, waffles, eggs Benedict for her and scrambled for him. It was a silly tradition of dubious origin, and one they had kept for two years.

“Nah. The baristas know me, baby.” He said, watching her fling the clothes on the bed on her way to the closet. Brienne opened the double doors, peering at the contents critically. As she pulled out a skirt, he continued, “They always remember to have them ready for pick-up.”

“So, what are you still waiting for?” She asked, putting the skirt on the bed. It was a gray and black plaid mini. Her eyes twinkled as she looked at him. “A bit rude to keep them waiting, my love.”

“I love it when you call me that.”

His tone was quiet, his eyes tender. She got weak in the knees when he did that to her. Despite the frost clinging to the windows that indicated a harsh winter day, she felt warm and toasty.

Their bed was a mess—sheets stained from fucking and half-pulled from the mattress, the pillows stripped of cases and torn at the seams, revealing the goose-down stuffing. Clothes mapped the floor. The scent of fucking was thick.

But their apartment was a haven. She liked order, with things firmly in place always. That hadn’t changed since living with Jaime, but she loved chaos now too.

Disarray and the mess of two people madly in love was not only in the bedroom. In the living room was the sofa needing another professional cleaning although Jaime thought it was better to dump it in the alley and just get a new one. Under it was a small collection of her used and torn panties and some of his socks. The carpet was stiff from dried semen on some areas, and with bald patches too, the fibers having been ripped by her when she came. Mixed with the scent of maple syrup, coffee, bacon grease, and Jaime’s cologne was the gentle note of fucking. She loved it. It was home and there was a lot of love.

“I love saying I love you,” she told him. She said it simply, honestly.

“And I love it even more that I get to say I love you back,” Jaime said, going to her. She smiled before putting her arms around his shoulders, bending her neck to rest her forehead on his. “So, I love you back.”

“I think _you_ need a pounding, ser,” she teased him, taking his jaw gently in her hand to press a kiss on his lips.

“Hmm, you know me so well.”

“Because I love you.”

“I love you back.”

One more kiss then he set her apart from him, only to kiss her soundly on the neck and lick her. She giggled. His hands fell from her shoulders with great reluctance then he headed for the door. He opened it then suddenly paused, looking thoughtful.

“Say, babe? I need a huge favor.”

“Sure. What is it?”

He winked. “Don’t wear panties.”

She got his discarded boxers and threw it. “Get out of here!”

He shut the door just in time. Brienne shook her head and turned to her clothes. “And don’t forget your scarf! A jacket isn’t enough!”

A body sore from fucking and still weak from orgasms were small discomforts as she got dressed. Thick, black tights under her skirt, her tank top and over it, a heavy black turtleneck sweater. She got her boots from the hall closet then threw on her heavy tan coat with the fleeced collar. In the mirror, her cheeks were pink, her eyes shining with the just-fucked-sparkle.

She pressed her ear on the wall, listening for the oft-irate next-door neighbor. He moved in to the building over four months ago and was quickly unpopular with the tenants. Artists and people who proudly wore their eccentricity lived in the building. She didn’t consider herself and Jaime like them—she did web development and graphic design from home and he owned the wine and tapas bar two blocks away—but their neighbors were up-and-coming artists, for example, which explained the various men and women flitting in and out of the building at night. Another neighbor was an author who was doing an update on Seven Points of Conquest, the ancient Westeros book on love and sex. She and Jaime were used to hearing dirty talk at two in the morning because of it.

Their new neighbor had so far filed numerous complaints not just about the noise from them but others as well. The tenant living above him “walked too loud.” She and Jaime “fucked too loud, at all hours.” He didn’t like the art models going in and out of the building. The few times she saw him, he wore the collar of his coat raised, hiding much of his features except his red hair. The landlord told her he was Tormund Giantsbane, a professor of astrophysics.

She hoped he had left. Fucking Jaime before the crack of dawn didn’t embarrass her but they’d had run-ins with that Tormund. His complaints were minor irritants. She thought him odd for sticking to tweed no matter the season.

She grabbed her bag and went out in the hallway. Another check for the cranky neighbor then she went to elevator, cramming a knitted bright blue cap over her pale hair. She pushed at the double doors of the building and was immediately slapped in the face by the icy air of winter. She felt her entire body shrivel up, her nipples puckering.

Muffin Top was just across the street, then five doors down. Snow caused some of the trees lining the street to stoop, and the ground was slick with it despite her non-slip soles Brienne looked on both sides before crossing, holding up her hand for the cars to slow down.

She was fifteen minutes late today. The line now extended to the sidewalk. As she snagged a spot, her phone rang.

“Babe,” Jaime drawled when she answered. “Are you on your way home? I’m leaving Starkbucks.”

“You’re fast. I’m still waiting in line,” she answered, sighing.

“Ah, well, sorry for keeping you,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all.

“You really are,” she retorted. “There’s only like, five people ahead of me so I won’t be too long, I think.”

“Why don’t I join you there?”

“That’s nice, but you don’t have to. Besides, it’s cold.”

“I do have something cold with me, babe.”

“It’s okay, really.”

“Alright. You said it. Do try to hurry, babe. Oh, and I have a question.”

“Sure. What?”

“Are you wearing panties?”

_“Jaime.”_

“I realize it’s quite cruel of me to ask you not to wear them on a cold day. So, I want to be ready to warm your tasty pussy when you get home.”

She was blushing, and not from the harsh cold weather. Against her better judgment, she asked, “And how exactly are you going to get ready for. . .that?”

“That’s for me to know and for you a damned good reason to keep your legs spread, babe.”

Gods. The things he said and what she let him get away. “Goodbye. I’ll see you.”

“Alright. Can’t wait to put my tongue back in your pussy.”

 _‘Jaime!”_ But he had already hung up.

It was ten minutes before she could place her order. “Two dark chocolate chip, one blueberry and one carrot cake flavor, please. Oh, and a small jar of your blueberry jam,” she told the server behind the counter while pulling out bills from her wallet.

She hugged the bag of muffins to her chest as she crossed the street, grateful for the warmth they offered. Once inside the building, she hurried to the elevator and punched her floor number. Jaime would be home now. Silver fairies danced and twirled in her tummy as the carriage took her up. Not only fairies, she thought, flushing. Her tights adhered to her cunt.  

She had never fucked so much until Jaime. The man was a hot, insatiable, horndog. Plus, he got her doing things she normally wouldn’t do. He never pushed her but somehow, usually convinced her. Such as after their first date, when she let him kiss her cunt before saying goodbye. Or when he introduced her to the weird delight of dipping fries in sundae.

Two beautiful years together, with lots of discoveries and fucking without end. Jaime was still the most fascinating person for her, not to mention the sexiest—to think she had seen him covered in spots when he got the chicken pox, or snot dripping nonstop from his nose when he got the flu.

The doors opened, and she got out, clutching the paper bag. The aroma of warm, baked goods rose from the bag and trailed after her while walking down the hall. She hugged it to her side while retrieving the keys from her purse. She opened the door, calling out to him.

“Your muffins are— _what the actual fuck?_ ”

Aghast, she stared at Jaime on his knees in front of her. He frowned at her expression then understood what his position might imply. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your non-existent panties in a twist, babe. This is not a fucking proposal.”

“Why the hell are on your knees?” She refused to budge from the door, hugging the muffins to her chest.

“Praying,” he snapped. As she shot him a warning look, he glared at her. “Of course not!”

“Then again, why—”

“I want my muffin.”

“I got the dark chocolate chip— _oh_.” He laughed as she turned beet-red upon realizing what he meant. “Jaime.”

She shifted her weight from one foot then the other, biting her lip. As his heated gaze raked her from head to boot, her cunt began to swell.

She was damp in three seconds. _Holy Seven._

Damp and dripping.

“Believe me, there were some yummy-looking choices at Starkbucks and I know you have my favorite flavor there but none of them come close to how delicious my favorite muffin is. Come here,” he said, crooking two fingers at her. She flushed and carefully placed her purse and the muffins on the console table.

Her steps were unsteady from the hot wave of lust overtaking her. He tugged her by the hand, looking up at her with open admiration and hunger. Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned her coat.

It fell at her feet. Jaime then caressed her legs and the outside of her thighs before slipping his hands under her skirt. Her breathing sped up, exacerbating her wobbly ankles even in the flat boots. She clutched his shoulders to steady herself, feeling his muscles and sinew under the leather of his jacket and the wool of his sweater.

He cupped her ass in both hands then kissed her cunt through the skirt. Her nipples peaked painfully against her clothes. “Jaime.”

She clutched him by the shoulders as his hand moved to slide between her thighs. They closed around it, trapping him. He smiled at discovering how damp she was.

“Ah. How thoughtful of you to butter the muffin for me, Brienne.”

“Gods, will you stop calling my pussy muffin?” She gasped as he caressed her through the thick nylons. Her hips rocked shyly against his hand.

“I’ll try. Maybe.” As he spoke, his fingers slid up and down her slit, making the cloth press and cling. His other hand unsnapped her skirt.

It fell, Jaime guiding her out of it one leg at a time. He tucked his hands in the band of her nylons and pulled, ripping it right at the center.

She would protest but he grabbed her by the ass and slammed his mouth on her cunt. She gasped as his tongue parted her sticky labia, seeking her clit. It stood stiff and fat from between her folds. He sucked harshly.

Stuttered, wet grunts left her lips as his beard scraped on the pink burns left earlier. Then his tongue plundered her cunt, flicking repeatedly at her wet pearl. Her nails dug in the leather of his jacket, her legs trembled.

Realizing how helpless she was, he slowly drew her down, spreading her legs over his lap. He pushed his fingers through her hair as they kissed, sharing the taste of her cunt. Her face burned from the repeated brushes of his beard, yet she still responded to his kisses with eager fervor. She pushed at his jacket to caress his chest through the sweater, slid her hand to the zipper of his jeans. Though their mouths were fused, she found the hard ridge of his cock easily.

“Muffin,” he gasped against her lips.

Her eyes flashed and cupped him. He yelped. _“Pussy.”_

“Remind me later,” he said, kissing down her throat, growling at her turtleneck collar as he lowered her to the floor. She stifled a giggle as he kissed down her tits, nuzzling the fabric covering her. He pushed her sweater up, covering her midsection with quick, firm kisses. His beard scratched her.

“That tickles!” She exclaimed, twisting her body, her legs flailing uselessly for he was right between them. He took a playful bite of her tummy, drawing a pitched coo from her lips. Then he licked the spot, catching her dazed stare as he resumed the kisses leading to her cunt.

He didn’t have to push her legs open. She did it herself, spreading them, tearing the last of the seams holding her together. His breath stirred her pubic hairs, then he was parting her cunt open again. Her hips lurched as his tongue plunged back inside.

_Velvet heaven._

He stroked the inner, more sensitive parts of her cunt, drawing grunts from her throat and making her spine arch sharply. She did not feel the hardwood under her, nor the cold air spreading in their apartment. Only Jaime—his soft hair wrapped around her fingers, the aged leather of his jacket rubbing against her bare legs, his _tongue._

_Oh, what a gift it was._

He laved her cunt lovingly, touching the soaked recesses, teasing the sensitive inner nerves. He kept his thumbs tucked in her cunt lips to feast on her clit. His beard made her toes curl in her boots and her legs writhe. His kisses got more furious the louder she screamed. His tongue lashed her, inside, then around, then back on her clit.

As she wailed his name, something gave away inside her. A force suddenly flared in her cunt. She squeaked as her hips tilted up, nearly knocking Jaime off her. He firmed his kisses, fucked her faster with tongue.

She was fire, hungry, uncontrollable fire. When Jaime tugged her clit between his lips, she shrieked. Then something inside her collapsed and whooshed to her cunt. Confused, she pressed her feet on the floor, hoping to halt his kisses for a second.

It was too late. Something fountained out of her cunt and gushed right on Jaime’s tongue. She screamed, fighting to keep her legs closed when he raised his head. His beard was dark from her, and his lips gleamed red.  He raised his head, eyes the color of wildfyre. Surprise crossed to satisfaction on his face.

“You never said you’re a squirter.”

“I’ve never— _oooh, Jaime_.” She grunted, falling heavily on the floor as his tongue resumed its assault. Her arms lay flat next to her ears. She bent her legs, opening wider.

She came with a gasp moments later, her hands curling into fists. Jaime didn’t miss a beat, lavishing kisses and licks on her cunt, joined by the swift pumps of his fingers. When a loud sigh laced with a husky moan slipped from her lips, he finally granted her mercy. Her face was content as his fingers left her cunt, his lips her clit.

She could lay stay on this floor until the next century, legs spread, her cunt a wet, swollen wreck of pink and her honey.

“Holy Seven Hells,” he gasped, dropping right next to her. He looked stunned, dazed and smug all at once. “How do you taste so fucking phenomenal, Brienne?”

He looked at her and she laughed tiredly, turning to her side to kiss him. She placed her hand on his chest and he kept it there through the kiss. His lips were warm and slick with her honey, as was his tongue. But there was also the hint of cream and chocolate syrup.

“You taste wonderful,” she whispered, licking her lips. “You had some of the frappe already.”

“Guilty. I have a weakness for the whipped cream.”

“I thought it was muffin.”

“I’m helpless from your muffin,” he clarified. “I’m weak for whipped cream.”

She remained on her back, still too drained to move. He grunted and pulled at his jacket. “I’m hot.”

“Can I help?”

“No.” he shot her grin as he sat up, pulling at his clothes. “Just stay there. You look so well-ravished, babe. To think I haven’t put my cock in you yet.” He nodded at her spread legs, his grin turning predatory as he gazed at her cunt. “I sure would like to churn butter in there.”

“Where on earth do you pick up these things? Honestly!” She said, watching him toss his jacket and sweater away. He worked on his t-shirt next. Hmm. She couldn’t wait.

“What can I say? You inspire me to talk dirty.” He replied, standing up to step out of his boots.

“While you’re up, I’d love to have my melted caramel frappe, my love.”

“Coming right up.”

She watched his cute little ass in the jeans as he went to the kitchen to get their drinks. He brought the tray to her—his half-full, and hers with the deflated crown of the whipped cream under the plastic dome. As she took it, he went to get the package of muffins. He kicked off his boots and joined her at the floor, making a pleased sound when he found his favorite chocolate chip and blueberry muffins, and the jar of preserves.

They had two muffins each but he split the blueberry in half, slathering jam on the half he gave her first before repeating it for his half. Caramel frappe and blueberry muffin were weird together, but she was famished.

Brienne swiped a dollop off the cream cheese frosting of her carrot cake muffin and put it in her mouth. As she sucked, she realized that Jaime was no longer eating. He sat resting his elbow on one knee while watching her, openly leering at her. She swallowed and blushed.

“You’re looking a little hot, babe,” he said conversationally. “Are you sure you still need the rest of your clothes?”

“Don’t I?” she mused, playing along. She loved these little games with him. “I suppose you have a solution?”

He smiled, sighing. “Oh, babe, I sure do. If I were king of the universe, you’ll never wear clothes again.”

She laughed and crawled to him on all fours, her eyes burning with lust and love as he put her on his lap. He looked positively tortured and ready to die the happiest of deaths as she rubbed her cunt against his erection under the denim. His hands slipped under her sweater and tank, cupping her tits.

Before they kissed, she joked, “You should spend some time with my shirts, Jaime. They’re actually nice fellows.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he rasped, squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples. He pushed her clothes up and she couldn’t resist pressing closer to him, loving the scrape of his chest hairs. “They like keeping you from me.”

They chuckled before kissing. Their lips were now cool from the frappe, and sticky from the preserves and muffins. She lowered her hand to his cock and cupped it through the denim, enjoying his grunt. “Your jeans do feel like they want a quick divorce from you,” she whispered as he licked her lips.

“Do they?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be quick.”

She laughed as he pushed her off him and got up, pretending to do a slow striptease for her.  As his hips moved with exaggerated slowness, she took her half-full caramel frappe. She sucked the creamy drink through the straw as he ran a hand down his bare chest, down his hard abs.

She would love to lick whipped cream off those muscles. And swirl chocolate syrup all over them.

Still pretending to dance, he swiveled his hips slowly, pumping into the air suggestively while working on the jeans. She laughed when he swung his leg to kick off his boot, sending it to the top of a bookshelf. He did the same to remove the other, the boot knocking down the wooden bowl of apples from the counter. Affecting wide-eyed shock, he sucked on his fingertip before his eyes gleamed with heat. She laughed as he waved his firm ass at her, slowly shimmying out of his jeans. The sound of her mirth ended with a whimper as the firm globes of his ass emerged.

Could there be anything cuter?

Jaime turned, facing her. No. Nothing could be cuter. But something was definitely a lot hotter and handsome. Brienne wore her hunger for him boldly, meeting his heated stare, her heart racing in her chest as she stared at his firm, well-sculpted lips. _Even his neck was sexy._

She looked at him hungrily, her mouth watering from his broad chest carpeted in dark, golden fur, the defined, tight muscles of his abs. She admired the muscles bunched at his thighs, his long legs.

Then she steered her gaze to his cock. Girth almost as thick as her wrist, long and thrusting boldly from the tangle of his pubic curls. It pointed straight at her.

Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked the last of her frappe. She set the empty cup next to her and got on her knees. Her arms crossed over her chest, dragging sweater and tank in one swoop.

As soon as her clothes were off, Jaime was on her, grabbing her by the face and planting a hard, hungry kiss on her mouth. She sighed and threw her arms around him, pulling him down the floor with her, hooking her legs around his hips. He growled from the scrape of her boots’ heavy soles on him but kept kissing her. Pressed a hot trail down her neck. She scratched and caressed his back, squeezed his ass. Her nipples tightened with every brush of the fur on his chest, igniting an electric thrill that had them grunting each other’s names.

She rained kisses on his shoulder, across his chest, playfully bit the firm muscle on his left arm as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth to suck. As she felt the world dim from the riotous pleasure ignited with every suckle and bite, he palmed her cunt.

Her hand clapped over his as she spread her legs wider, earning a rasp of approval from him. As he tugged and licked her nipples with lips and tongue, he pumped a long finger in her cunt.

She was dripping. Wet and searing, sucking his finger harder at each pass. She pulled at his hair and wailed for more.

His mouth returned to her, their kiss lewd, a duel of tongue and tangled spit. She pushed her hand between their battling bodies, desperate for his cock. _Warm velvet over hard steel._ Her fingers closed around it, thumb circling the bulbous head before she slid up and down. He pulsed, hardened, thrust across her palm. She bit him on the lip, tugged it between her teeth. As his pants warmed her face, she gasped, “Now, Jaime. Fuck me. Please. Jaime. Please.”

She turned, getting on her hands and knees and spreading her legs wide. Behind her, he kissed her nape, licked down her spine. She thrust her ass at him, reached behind to touch his thigh, grip it. His hands slid under her arms, pulling her up for a kiss. She turned, rubbing her face, her lips against his mouth, his beard, gasping as he pinched her nipple.

“I love you so much,” he grunted against her neck before licking the sweat on it. Then he pressed her down.

Brienne slanted her body to the floor, keeping her ass raised as Jaime entered her. Her neck arched as he filled her, pushing inside her cunt, stretching her in a way that she could only describe as beautiful and perfect. She wept as his hands controlled the movements of her hips, sliding her down his cock, pushing her, his own hips moving against her in perfect rhythm.

Her cunt was so wet, she was the wettest she had ever been.

Whimpering, she raised her head, her eyes finding the open door of their apartment.

_Oh, gods._

As Jaime panted and fucked her cunt as if to pulverize it, she _swore_ she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the unit next to theirs. The apartment of their red-haired, tweed-obsessed neighbor. Tormund. Her eyes widened the closer and clearer the footsteps sounded.

“Jaime—” she started to say when he suddenly fisted her hair and yanked her up. Then his mouth was on her, tongue fucking her. Their hips smacked wetly as their orgasm neared.

She should stop this. At least close the door. But his kisses immobilized her, turned her common sense to mush. She kissed him back, shoving her tongue in his mouth rather than choosing to warn him.

Before she could be swept away in the lava of their fucking, her half-closed eyes veered back to the door. They saw the shape of a shoulder in brown tweed, gray pants leg before they disappeared behind the wall next to their door.

She would laugh. She wanted to shout. But Jaime. Jaime and his kisses. His cock.

They ripped their mouths from each other and shouted for all the world to hear. It went on until Brienne coughed and Jaime’s voice broke. Drained, they collapsed on the floor, her body giving him cushion. She grunted as his cock slipped deeper inside her, the head smooshing against her cervix.

“Gods, I love your muffin,” he panted against her shoulder.

Before she could correct him again, someone pounded his fist on their shared wall. Brienne blushed as Jaime laughed.

“Told you, the perv listens to us.”

“Nope. I think he saw us.” She gestured wearily at the open door.

Jaime glanced in the direction and chuckled. “He should have nothing to complain about, then. We just gave him one hell of a show.”

She giggled and patted him on the thigh. “Go close it, please.”

She staggered to her feet, working to get rid of her boots when he went to close the door naked. She gazed longingly at his high, very firm ass before turning away to kick them off. Leaving them on the floor, she picked up the bag of muffins and went to the couch. Her ass thanked her as she sank on the cushions, digging out a muffin as she did. 

She was biting on a chocolate chip muffin when he joined her, cock and balls bobbing as he walked. He put an arm around her, squeezing her close. They exchanged sweet, searing looks before sheput her head on his lap. As she propped her legs up on the sofa arm, he plucked and pinched her nipple.

She tore a generous chunk off the muffin top and offered it to him. “Now that you’ve had your fill of your favorite muffin,” she said, her eyes shining like sapphires, “have some of mine.”

“With pleasure,” he said, taking her hand and eating the morsel right from her. He wiggled his eyebrows. “And you are mistaken to think I’ve had my fill, babe. I’m gonna flay that muffin and you’ll never want me to stop.”

She sighed, content and feeling like the luckiest woman in the world as he kissed her hand. “Every time you say something like that, I love you more."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I haven't been able to update my WIPs due to exhaustion. The previous term drained me and I came close to missing the year-end work requirements. So, I've been resting a lot (a.k.a. as being on my ass and stuffing my face with cheese and mainlining the wine) and writing those bit by bit. But I have begun writing some new prompts too (hello, kristilove!) and also doing some research on a new pair for SeleneU! I also owe someone a gay fic. 
> 
> Then I began a project two days before the end of 2018 that required clearing away over fifteen years' worth of stuff! It's ongoing. While I had no trouble giving away clothes to charity (what the fuck possessed me to get that gold shimmery top?!? Oh, right. Not what. WHO. Paris Hilton), as well as shoes (platforms from the Spice Girls era, I'm fucking old) it's a struggle parting from books. But I need those shelves!
> 
> That's why writing and updating is a lot slower than usual, as well as responding to your wonderful comments. I promise they've been read and I feel terrible for not replying. But I want it known that the time you give to read my work is so appreciated. 
> 
> I will do better!


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